Pureblood Is A Naughty Word
by NamedForTheWind
Summary: Just a teaser for now...it's been over two hundred years since Harry overthrew Voldemort, and all the descendants of Death Eaters are in internment camps. Enter Ryan Ivanhoe, first ever to attempt escape. Rating may go up.


_Austley Manor_

_Year Of Light 58_

There was no sense of urgency, as it seemed there should be at such a time. No crashing, no running, no panting. No fugitive, frantic for escape. Just the quiet _tick-tock_ of the clock and a clenching anticipation in his stomach.

_They were coming in the morning_. The thought was like that annoying song in your head that you try to block out but won't go away. He sat in his chair, humming softly along with the radio as he studied the fire. It was calm, still, almost comfortable, but for the sense of dread hanging invisibly on the air.

The door slammed, and he jumped and half-drew his wand, before settling back down into the chair. His blank stare had only left the fire once, only been animated with something like panic once, before returning. He slowly b

]egan rocking, not looking at but feeling his familiar surroundings. The armchair there, the bookcases _there_, the old radio perched precariously on the edge of one shelf. The pictures of happy times watching him with understanding eyes.

"Dear." Came his wife's sad voice as her arms wrapped around him. "Dear, let's go to bed."

He stood, stretching, and gave her a weary smile. She laughed as he waltzed her across the room, but it was a watery chuckle, full of barely held-back tears. They came to a swaying halt, and she sighed and buried her head in his shoulder.

"Scorpius. Oh, Scorpius, who would have ever thought that it would turn out like this?"

_Who indeed._ He thought grimly as her tears finally came. They'd been there, hovering beneath the surface, ever since the order came a week ago. Everything had changed seven years ago, just before the birth of their fourth child. But no, it had really begun even before that.

The Trio had gone out in a blaze of glory. No one had really expected them to die slowly of old age, but it was a shock. The nation had both celebrated and grieved, rejoicing in the Last Stand even as they mourned the loss. Even the former Death Eaters stood vigil for their old enemies, for the only greater loss than that of a great enemy is that of a great friend. Nothing had really been the same since, without them to check the increasingly harsh policies towards the unforgotten and despised Dark Purebloods. Even ones like him, who had married into or were friends with Light families, were resented and even feared. Protected, but resented all the same.

So the order had come. It really shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was. The government had gone downhill without the influence of the Trio, becoming more and more prejudiced and sequestered. Their children's strained cheerfulness about school had often been the cause of exchanging worried glances. But they weren't expecting measures this extreme, at least not for a while yet. They had thought they had time to get all of their children through school and leave the country. Things had escalated at a rate no one could have predicted, and now they were stuck.

They stood there while the cheery music played on, her head buried in his chest as he stared off into the distance. What a portrait the made, of every war-torn couple throughout the ages! But he was not going to war, and couldn't offer the simple comfort of assurances of returning, or even of letters. He could only hold her for this one last night.

After an untold amount of time, they drew marginally apart and he led her out, down the hall, and into their bedroom. What occurred there, in their last moments of wedded bliss, is entirely private and exactly none of our business.

~.~.~

They came early in the morning, two black-haired men and a redhead. They sat in pitying silence as she served them all breakfast. He joked and laughed with them, hiding his fear under his revelry. He fondly recalled school days and pranks, funny stories of Auror training and meeting her parents. Even she wore a faint smile by the time the meal was over.

"Well, gentlemen, shall we be off?" He said cheerily as he rose. The shorter one with black hair started, almost as if he had forgotten the reason they came.

Scorpius swept off toward the door, gathering hat, scarf, and coat as he went. He whistled as he put them on and examined himself in the mirror, adjusting the tilt of his hat as he waited. His wife came to him with a suitcase, and he caught her in his arms and pulled her into a kiss. She looped her arms around his neck, and they stood there, even after the kiss was over, studying each other as one final tear rolled down her cheek.

"'I shall come to thee by moonlight'." He whispered softly.

She smiled and scoffed even through her tears. "You always were fond of quoting things."

He kissed her again, slowly this time, lingeringly. Then he turned back to the men and nodded.

"Let's go, then."

The one who had started before shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Rose."

"Sorry." The other two muttered, refusing to meet her gaze.

They squared their shoulders and walked out into the yard; and as she stood waving at the window, blowing one last kiss, they apparated away in a swirl of leaves.

They led him down the hallway, and back into the bright sunlight. He looked at the fence gravely, and took a shuddering breath. There was none of the calm of last night now, nor of the lively reminiscence of this morning. Just a man, braving himself for eternity.

"Scorp…" One said.

He gave them one last smile. "Hell, boys. I'd damn sight rather be hung by my friends than by a bunch o' damn strangers!" He attempted to imitate the American accent of the actor from that movie in Muggle Studies all those years ago, and waved flippantly as he began to walk through the opening gate.

"You're hardly Jake Spoon, Scorp." Albus said.

_Death Eater Internment Camp_

_Year Of Light 223_

Dry leaves shook bitterly as the cold autumn wind blew across the hard ground. An old, dilapidated bench sat across form the lone tree, like old enemies in an eternal standoff, reluctant to turn their back on the other. The frozen earth crunched as small and scared-looking children darted between houses as if anxious to be caught between. Only the Auror's quarters looked remotely cheerful, and even the cheer they managed was a dingy sort. Their houses glared accusingly through brightly lit windows at the rundown shacks huddled together as if for warmth. Everything was calm and deadly.

An old man hobbled out of one of these homes, nearly falling several times, only to be caught and patiently helped back upright by his young companion. They slowly made their way toward the bench, the old man with determination in his eyes and the boy with caring deference on his. He eased the old man onto the bench, watching to make sure he was fine before settling into a crouch before him.

"So you want to learn of how we came to be here, young Ivanhoe. So you should, so you should. Everyone needs to know where they came from. And what you came from, in their time, was the best of the best, with power unimaginable. But you mustn't ever say anything to the guards. Oh, no. They'd take you away and have a Dementor take care of you, if you did. You are, after all, merely a Pureblood, and a Dark one at that. The descendant of a Death Eater. Our families have crimes to their names, no doubt about that, crimes from centuries ago.

"Now, you have been warned, shall I proceed? Yes?…"

**A/N: Hey! This is just a teaser, to see if anyone is interested in this story. If people aren't, then I've got something else that I'd like to work on and get up, but if they are, I'll try to dedicate most of my time to this.**

**I quoted **_**The Highwayman**_** by Alfred Noyes and the 1989 movie ****Lonesome Dove**** in this fic.**


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